


I Went To Sleep Alone (I Didn't Sleep)

by Myrtille



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Brief mention of Tony Stark - Freeform, Insomnia, M/M, Sad with a Happy Ending, Yeah no I'm not gonna be a bitch and make them die or anything, winter soldier - Freeform, winter soldier spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-11
Updated: 2014-09-11
Packaged: 2018-02-17 00:54:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2290991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Myrtille/pseuds/Myrtille
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve doesn’t sleep. After being thawed out of the ice, after all of S.H.I.E.L.D. probes and analysis, after being sent to the small safe house and the large gym room, he stays awake for a week straight. At one point, he just passes out on the ground, surrounded by busted open punching-bags. </p><p>Passes out and startles awake.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Went To Sleep Alone (I Didn't Sleep)

 

Steve doesn’t sleep. After being thawed out of the ice, after all of S.H.I.E.L.D. probes and analysis, after being sent to the small safe house and the large gym room, he stays awake for a week straight. At one point, he just passes out on the ground, surrounded by busted open punching-bags.  
  
Passes out and startles awake.

  
He tries to sleep, but his body cannot relax,

(even after hours punching his nightmares in the form of bags. Even after running around Central Park. Even after being tense every single second waiting for the other shoe to drop.)

his eyes can’t stay closed; the dark is always too bright, filled with snow and trains on bridges and ice moving up to you and men falling and hands reaching out to emptiness

(and if he keeps on trying he can hear a woman desperate on the other end of a radio and a man screaming his name with a voice filled with terror that falls far, far away from him.)

He doesn’t sleep.

(he doesn’t cry either)

  
He startles awake and doesn’t feel rested one bit; he realizes he never stays out cold more than a couple hours. Super metabolism or not, a couple hours every few days is not enough, and sometimes he feels like a walking dead in sweatpants, punching bags and running around, trying so hard not to _think_.

 

 

                                                                ***

 

 

When New-York happens, he can pretend. That the city needs help for the reconstruction, that him staying awake for six days in a row is more about _not having the time_ than _being fucking messed up_.  
He can hide his grief for a woman he loved (but not enough, never enough) and didn’t get to see live happily, for a man he loved (but too much, way too much) and only got to see die, for seventy whole years spent underground that changed his city and his country and his world without being polite enough to act on his mind and ease the pain as only time can – he hides all this behind the blood and dust and smashed concrete and alien goo.  
  
(and maybe Stark’s kid isn’t that bad, after all. Sometimes he almost make Steve chuckle, make him breathe a little more for a second)

They’re not friends, not companions, not anything.

(Steve doesn’t do friends and companions. Not anymore.)

They’re merely a fighting group, working not that badly together, united for a very special occasion. As soon as it’s done, as soon as he can stop pretending to enjoy Shawarma

(the man he knew a long time ago would have loved it, loved the idea of eating something invented so far away, loved these people with bright armours and leather clothes and magic hammers, loved to see him so _protected_ )

as soon as everything is cleaned up, he goes back to his hole and his bags (filled with sand and nightmares and memories) and his empty nights.

           

 

                                     ***

 

Sleeping pills don’t work (of course)

Hitting his head hard enough to make a hole on his wall doesn’t work (he meets his neighbour, a nice nurse, says he tripped, smiles apologetically, his head in her kitchen like a trophy from a hunt hung to a wall, his body in his own living room)

Yelling in his unused pillows so long his enhanced voice is hoarse doesn’t work (and he gets to talk a bit more to his neighbour about how he tried some metal music, he didn’t realise it was so loud, sorry, but don’t worry, it won’t happen again anytime soon)

Sitting on the floor, back against the wall, staring at nothing doesn’t work (the phone startles him, Fury worried about the lack of any noise in is apartment for two whole days)

Nothing does until he just smashes on the floor, blacks out and gets up a few moments later, barely rested enough to hold himself up a few more hours.

 

 

                                                ***

 

 

He starts going on missions with Nat and doesn’t know who to trust (and doesn’t really want to get closer to someone he has to lead because _what if one day they have to get on a train_?) and only manages just so to not collapse on the Lemurian Star.

He meets Sam.  
  
Sam feels safe because he smiles and the smiles only hide another smile; he feels safe because he doesn’t ask Steve to lead him anywhere; he only opens his own world of suffering and getting better and Steve thinks that maybe maybe _maybe_ these people can have a clue, maybe just listening to the VA can help, maybe dark skin and white smiles and gentle taps on his shoulders can lull him to sleep.

(and one time he lets the gentle taps turn into gentle caresses, he lets the dark arms surround him, and it’s nice and nothing more, and Sam chuckles with shiny eyes and _‘m’pretty sure we both got cuddly with our own ghosts man_ and they never try it again and they walk out of here side by side and _awake_ )

But at the tenth tap he feels attached already, and then HYDRA happens, and then he asks Sam to help him, and Sam follows Captain America to battle

(and he doesn’t know of a skinny Brooklyn boy who can’t back out from a fight and Steve thanks the gods for that because he thinks it would just _break_ him)

and then he realizes he trusts Nat and actually likes her and then the fear starts again. Fear to loose and lead them to their end and to see them _fall_.

 

 

                                                ***

 

 

It only takes a day

(fear makes it feel longer, but it’s only a day, twenty-four hours of tightening in his chest, of short breaths and relieved releases)

to be on a bridge again and to have to eject themselves out of a brakeless car and to fight a deadly man with a metal arm and he is strong and fierce and familiar in a way Steve cannot understand and decides to put aside

(to fight for his life might become familiar now, and how sad is that)

and then the mask falls and Steve.

Steve calls the name

(the name he never dared to call since he came back, the name he yelled and cried and didn’t get any time to grieve, the name that used to be comfort then love then loss, and how is he here and it doesn’t matter because it’s _Bucky_ )

And the man doesn’t know but still takes a step towards him and Steve wants to jump to him and then everything explodes and the man disappears and Steve.

Steve feels so tired.

So, so, so tired.

He could pass out now, in the middle of the street, he thinks. He could. He wants to. He begs for it. Begs for darkness voided of any dream and rest and nothingness.

The world stays bright and he only feels cuffs on his wrists and despair in his chest.

 

 

***

 

 

He fights for sleep and his life, and if it was up only to him he would give up and lie down and wait for the world to end, but then he thinks for a second ( _Who the hell is Bucky?_ ) and he keeps going.

On the Hellicarier, he fights with a ghost for his friend. Fights with emptiness by begging to fill it. Fights with ashes and dust and tries not to let his own mess get in the mix.

And he falls and get up and try again and then he simply gives up. Maybe the ghost is nothing but a ghost. Everyone knows it after all: you can’t bring the dead back to life. Maybe they’re right. Maybe a ghost is all he gets after what he’s done.

Maybe the ghost is the missing piece to Steve’s problem.

So he stops fighting. Out of friendship and endless love and fatigue. He’s lying on his back and his face is getting pounded on by metal and he stops begging and simply offers himself.  
He cannot take his friend on a train. Not again. He cannot fail him again. He’d rather fall himself (he should’ve, back then.), would welcome the dark with relief and joy, would rather do anything than hit the man (the ghost) on top of him.

And the ghost (the man?) stops and stare. Wide, wet, horrified eyes. Something like recognition and something like confusion and something like fear and Steve knows those eyes and suddenly he feels like he could fall asleep right now (surrounded by broken glass and broken steel and a broken man) and everything breaks and he falls. The world does go dark, then.

 _About time_ , he thinks.

 

 

***

 

 

He wakes up in the hospital and feels a bit rested (and Stark might have helped with the dosage, who knows. The man always has to fiddle.)

Things go back to the way they were quickly, though.

 

The hunt for both his best friend and his sanity is nothing but a blur of endless days, longer nights and cold hard grounds jumping up to him when he blacks out.

Sam drags him back to the Tower after a couple of months. Supersoldier serum or not, Steve can’t resist (it’s not that he lacks the body strength, but his will to continue is no match to the black hole swallowing his mind).

And Sam stays up with him, and when Sam can’t take it anymore it’s Natasha and then Tony and then Clint and sometimes Bruce. The days feel shorter, the night are not as endless, but he still feels so deeply alone and _tired_.

 

 

In the end, it’s Bucky who finds him.

Jarvis speaks when they are gathered in the kitchen, Steve staring at his eggs, wondering how long whatever is happening to him can go on. Jarvis speaks and the mechanic voice sounds almost soft when he announces than Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes just collapsed again the main entrance, although he seems very much alive and only a bit tired.

Steve finds himself at the door and doesn’t know how he got there – and he doesn’t _care_.

  
It's like facing a ghost.

 

It’s like facing a ghost and a scratched memory, like an old sepia photo someone played with; he's there and he's alive and it's been months since the Hellicarrier and he looks like he hasn't slept either.

It’s like facing a ghost and a hundred, because he looks more like Bucky than he ever did when they fought and it’s like a kick in the guts and the brain and the heart, it’s like his whole body is startled awake, it’s like being dumped in cold and warm water at the same time.

It’s like those times when he watched Bucky

(the smiling and happy one, the one with a crooked hat and lover’s bites)

from far away and when Bucky would sneak a glance at him and look away guiltily. It’s like those times where Bucky would kiss a girl and wink at him.

It’s like facing his best friend of ninety-years whom he thought died because of him.

And Steve wants to hug. To hug and bury himself in his friend's arms, to stay there and just breathe in, but he's afraid to touch and to break and to make the ghost (the man, now. The man) disappear, so he simply takes his hand (without holding to tight; do not break, do not break) and walks him up the stairs and around the corner and he doesn’t even look at the others and he doesn’t say a word and his chest feels so tight.

They arrive to Steve’s room

(an empty place with an empty bed and an empty heart)

and Steve gets PJs out of the closet and sets everything on the bed, and then lets go of Bucky’s hand

(again)

and slowly walks out of the room.

 

Bucky goes to sleep with the door open. He stares at Steve (and Steve stares at him) and slowly seems to melt on the bed, and his eyes close.

The others are nowhere to be seen.

It’s silent.

It’s so silent and he stares at Bucky’s bed and Bucky’s closed eyes and Bucky’s relaxed hands and his own legs give out and he’s just sitting on the floor in front of the room and he breaks down.

Apparently, 70 years of holding in tears leaves a lot to give to a man because Steve cries and cries and cries and he’s still silent and he can’t see anything but then Bucky is suddenly here and sits next to him.

A hand cold on the back of his neck and the other one warm and pressing his chest.

(like when he was young and skinny and sick, and he thought he might actually die, and only Bucky would hold him tight as to try and give him some of his own energy.)

  
And Bucky rocks him and shushes him and tells him in a raw and gravelly voice that everything is going to be fine and _breathe Steve, breathe_ , and it lasts and lasts and Steve just feels his body drying out and his best friend around him

(and he had months to get used to the fact that he’s alive while looking for him but it still feels so _unreal_ )

and the dark coming for him.

 

 

 

And then Steve wakes up. In a bed. Surrounded by heat and metal and love. He feels raw and tiny and is wearing wrinkled clothes and his eyes feel puffy and Bucky is facing him, still but standing guard over him, and Steve realizes it is day.

It’s day and he doesn’t know how long has passed and he feels _rested._

 

He feels rested

               

He feels rested and he feels whole

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on [Tumblr](http://ttp394.tumblr.com)


End file.
